When I was in fourth grade a Jewish man visited my school to talk about his experiences during the Holocaust. However, his account of his time spent in the consecration camps was not what made my eyes to tear up that day. He related that when he was a young boy, he and his friends thought that in America money grew on trees. He said that growing up in Czechoslovakia he always dreamed of coming to America and living the “American dream.” I could see the tears well up in his eyes and could hear the tremble in his voice when he began to tell us how lucky we were to be born in the USA because it “is the best country in the world.” This was the first time when I realized how enormously blessed I am to be an American.
I am so privileged to have
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